


Solace

by Tish



Category: The Great Escape (1963)
Genre: Dreams, Gen, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Danny digs, but he has other things on his mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BigStripeyLie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigStripeyLie/gifts).



The birds arc and sing as they fly over the trees, a song that promises of freedom. Whenever Danny's not in the tunnel, he watches them, waiting to fly again. He mostly keeps to himself, despite the solitude of the dark hole he labours in. Mostly. But if there's one man he finds himself near, it's Willie.

A tunnel team is always close, and Danny would trust Willie with his life. More than once, he's been there, fair hair glowing in the flickering candlelight to save him, and Danny's done the same for his partner. It's what you do.

He's had nightmares about the tunnel, closing in all around him, making it his tomb. Or it would claim Willie and he would scratch and tear at the dirt to find him, but to no avail.

In the showers after a shift in the tunnel, Danny would stand, eyes shut, letting the water wash away the dirt and sweat and listen as Willie chatted. Inconsequential things, a moor he'd once hiked across, a joke, how he missed strange little things from home, like the jangle of a shop bell. Danny listens, not just for the conversation, but for Willie's voice. That link with sanity, with normality, with humanity. He'd open his eyes, and forget about the other men a few feet away and let his gaze drift to Willie. Not a stare, just letting him come into view as he idly looks around.

 

There's a creaking, groaning rumble, and then the world collapses upon Willie. Danny is there in moments, hands digging him out, hands around his body, his face close to Willie's. Willie's blue eyes stand out against the dirt and he blinks, muttering his luck. Danny rests his head against Willie's shoulder, then pulls him clear. As he sits up and leans against Danny, Willie looks at Danny with a softness that hasn't been there before. He doesn't need to say his thanks, it's there in his eyes. All too soon, Danny rouses them to clear the debris and keep working.

 

There's one tiny slice of a moment where they find themselves alone in a hut, and away from a window, they lock eyes and find themselves entwined together for a brief few seconds. A kiss, bodies pressed together, then they part. Danny walks out the hut just as Sedgwick enters, distracted and full of plans.

 

Dinner in the mess hall, Danny sits down opposite Willie, busily demolishing something that approaches a sausage without actually containing any identifiable meat. Willie holds it up and shrugs, a grin spreading over his face. Danny's suddenly glad he's sitting down as Willie slides it into his mouth. He's grateful for a distraction as Eric hands round mugs of tea made from his Red Cross parcel.

Danny sips the fresh brew, his mind slipping back to a RAF mess hall in England and the murky tea, over-sweet and too milky, and realises how precious the smallest, most mundane things can be. He catches Willies eye, steaming mug held in front of his chin, and smiles as Willies tips it slightly, a toast to their friendship – and to more, Danny hardly dares to wish. 

 

At night, Danny lies awake, pondering life's roads. If he and Willie had met in peacetime, would things have gone the same way? The forced closeness of Stalag Luft III helped, but life has a way of developing in unexpected ways. If someone else had been his tunnel-mate, constantly by his side, would he still feel what he felt? If it were Eric in the tunnel with him, would the other man's wedding ring discourage his feelings? The heart loves what it loves, he concedes. No guilt, no remorse, he thinks. The hushed conversations in the hut die down and sleep overtakes Danny. Plenty of work to do, now is the time to sleep and dream. He dreams of Willie.

They walk in a field of wheat, a gentle breeze rippling around them. Pushing their bodies together, they kiss, hands roaming each others' bodies. Sinking down on a bare patch of soil, Danny pushes Willie onto his back and stares down at him, then straddles his thighs, pushing forward to feel Willie's cock against his own. His body responds, straining through his rough trousers. Willie's voice is think with desire as he says, “yes,” over and over again. He pulls Danny down to kiss him, one hand snaking between Danny's legs to rub and explore his body. Overhead, birds wheel and sing in the sweet, warm sun.

Danny wakes in the cool of the morning, calm and hopeful for the future. He turns over and sees Willie across the room, smiling as he watches him amid the hubbub and noise of the waking men getting up. 

 

There's a perfect, quiet moment in the tunnel as Willie takes a break from digging. He's sweaty and grimy and closes his eyes as he sits against the cool soil. Danny places a hand against the wall and looks up anxiously. He fears a sudden collapse, the walls caving in on them, but sits close to Willie, despite the cold fear clutching at his innards. He turns as Willie opens his eyes and places a hand on Danny's shoulder, slowly moving up to cradle his face. A kiss follows and Danny feels safer and calmer than he's ever felt. He feels Willie slip a hand down along his body and undo his trousers, Willie's eyes gleam as he takes Danny's cock and palms against it, then start to pump it. Danny can only lean back and watch Willie's face, a strand of blond hair falling over his eye as he goes faster and faster. Danny curses silently to himself that the only place to be alone in this damned hell-hole is this tunnel, the stage for his terror and for his chance for freedom. He moans softly so as not to weep. But then he smiles, one hand pushing away Willie's hair. A few more minutes, then the tunnelling could resume. A few more feet to freedom.

 

Night upon night, day by day, Danny and Willie find small chances to exchange a look, steal a kiss, or press against each other. It's almost unbearable and all Danny wants to do is be in Willie's arms, but all he can do is wait. There's time, and it goes slowly, and fast. The birds keep singing, and that's his solace.

 

On the river, Danny can watch Willie as they sit face to face. Danny rows and wonders if he'll ever again row on the lake back home. Would Willie be there with him? Maybe they could row along the beach at Southend, the sun shining on that fair hair, the sea-birds calling and swooping. 

“Too soon, Danny,” he thinks to himself. With capture an ever-present possibility, it's foolish to dream of such things. One step at a time, oar upon oar, until they are safely away. Then Danny can dream, and the birds can cry and swoop overhead.


End file.
